Occupational hazard
by Arsaja
Summary: Ray gets injured. Thomas tries his best not to laugh.


Something was wrong. While I never viewed myself as an intuitive person, I could sense that something was definitely off about my brother.

A day ago, we decided to split up and waste some time as Juarez was busy organizing his men for the riffle exchange. William wanted to see a famous church, I wanted to spend some leisure time with a few native Arizonian ladies, and Ray wanted to take a few side jobs as he needed cash to buy some revolver ammo again (I was thankful to have been born the smarter of us two, who uses riffles instead of not one, but two pistols, who ate up bullets faster than a pig gobbling up cherries). As usual, we shook hands and decided that the next day we'd meet up in Ray's town, Dust-city (heh, had to hand it to the locals – they did have a nice sense of deprecating humor).

"The Main Road Saloon" was the place where I was to meet Ray. And yes, the man was there, as expected. However, I immediately noticed something was amiss.

For one, Ray wasn't playing poker, loudly sharing his war stories with anyone who'd listen or even fondling the local harlots and haggling the price (poor old big brother, he wasn't as lucky as me – harlots would bed me without me having to open my coin purse). No, Ray McCall was sitting by himself in the deepest, darkest corner of the saloon, away from all the fun, clearly not wishing to be seen. _That_ was weird. But when I approached him, I saw another strange thing – while he had a half empty bottle of whiskey on his left and a completely empty glass on his right, Ray looked absolutely miserable. Yes, he was obviously tipsy, but still, his bluish gray eyes showed not even a small hint of joy. This was the first time I recon I had seen the man being both drunk and crestfallen. Strike number two.

You'd think that was the end of it, huh? No, not even a bit. For you see, after I approached him and started the usual small talk, Ray only answered my questions with one word answers, a nod, or a shake of the head.

Now, let me repeat that last part: Raymond, "Ray" McCall, the oldest of the three McCall brothers and the biggest blabbermouth I have ever had the pleasure (and horror) to meet, was **not** in a talkative mood.

That right there, ladies and gents, made me stop dead in my tracks, for I have never seen Ray not wanting to talk about…Well, anything. Well, OK, that's not entirely true – one time he fell of a horse and broke his jaw, had to had his trap bandaged for two months. That was the quietest, most peaceful Christmas we ever had.

But in those times, when he wasn't walking with broken bones, I really couldn't think of any occasion that would render him as mute as this.

Something was definitely off.

And I needed to find out.

I was ready to ask what's bothering the guy, but as we started walking outside to get the horses, I noticed his gait and could immediately spot what was wrong – Ray was limping.

Badly.

Ahhh. That explains it. He took a job and got himself injured in his leg, or possibly foot. For some reason Ray had the misfortune of hurting his feet. One time he broke his ankle, another time he stepped barefoot onto a nail and there was this one particular time when he accidentally jammed his toe in the doorway. It didn't help that he liked to scare me and William by showing off his blue broken nail like some kind of trophy…

Well, as my Pa always said: if you gotta go through a nettle patch, do so quickly.

"OK, big man, spit it out – how bad's the damage?" I asked.

"The hell you talkin' about?" Ray grumbled. I sighed - of course he was gonna be dismissive about it. That was just the way God intended when he created the world.

"You're limping." I stated simply "It's fairly obvious you got injured. So, how bad is it?"

"The hell do you care?!" Ray barked back to me and I jumped back, surprised. While I did expect him to be his usual pain-in-the-ass-to-deal-with self with more venom than usual(I could clearly see that he was hurting), I didn't expect such animosity from him. I crossed my arms and looked back at his scowling mug.

"Because we need to go on a mission tomorrow, you big oaf. And I need to know how badly hurt you are. Now stop acting like a stubborn jackass and spill the beans – what is wrong with you?"

While talking I could see the impatient angry scowl deepening – while Ray wasn't the prettiest of the McCall brothers, he sure as heck was the most intimidating one. But once my eyes caught the glimpse of his trembling fists, I was readying myself for a fight. However, what I got in return completely blew me away.

"MY ASS THOMAS! I WAS SHOT IN MY DAMNED ASS!" Ray shouted right in my face.

I stared blankly.

"Happy now?!"He huffed and fixed his stern glare at me.

Now let me tell you – I had a lot of heartaches in my life, the death of my father, my mother and my childhood dog being the top three. In this particular moment, I tried my absolute best to think about all three. I tried my damned best **not** to burst out laughing, because just glimpsing at Ray's angry eyes I could see his message loud and clear:

_You even think of cracking a smile and I WILL kill you._

„And uhh..."I tried to mask my mouth by turning away and pinching the bridge of my nose."...How did that happen?"

„I was hired by the fur trader to keep his wagons safe in the Navaho territory. " Ray pointed to a distant bleached poster on the saloon door.

„Naturally, the redfaced bastards threw an ambush and surrounded us. I was shooting the animals from all directions like crazy. Then I crouched near a rock to reload and one of the fuckin' reds shot an arrow right in my left cheek!"

Now, remember when I told you how I tried my best not to laugh? Unfortunately for me, I was just finding out that I'm not that good at keeping my composure as I wanted to – I could already feel the corners of my lips going upwards and a few bursts of laugh escaping my throat. I was thinking that this day would actually be the day I'd finally bit the dust, but my guardian angel was looking out for me, as Ray was too lost in thought to even notice my trembling smile.

"Luckily for me, we managed to fend of the assholes." Ray continued, looking at distance. "I got paid and there was a doctor nearby. He took out the arrow and bandaged my wound." He looked at me without any particular emotion. I could only stare, not having a slightest clue as to what to say.

An uncomfortable silence engulfed us and I awkwardly cleared my throat:

"Well, glad you got out alive, big brother. Now come on, let us get some horses, William is waiting for us at the camp."

I was about to start walking. when I noticed an uncomfortable look on Rays face.

"I can't."

"You can't what?" I asked, not following.

"I can't ride a horse, Thomas." Ray hissed. "Doctor's orders."

Have I already mentioned that I tried my best not to laugh? I did? Sorry, just keep losing track of these things. And if you lot are wondering: no, thinking about the day Pa had to put poor old Muddy down because the mutt got rabies was not working. I swallowed another burst of laughter and tried my very best to look serious. I doubt Ray took the bait, but if he noticed, he never brought it to light.

"Right." I sighed through my nose. "Because of the…" I made a circular motion with my hand. "…Injury."

Ray looked at me, annoyed. I again tried my best not to crack up.

"Well, we better get a coach then." I finally offered.

Ray nodded and we both started our (pathetically slow) search for a carriage.

"Thomas, you tell about this to William, Marisa or Juan, and I _will_ strangle you in your sleep."

Ah yes, everything went back to normal right there and then.


End file.
